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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737965">wanna get lonely with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerOnTilMorning/pseuds/QueerOnTilMorning'>QueerOnTilMorning</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Veronica Mars (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cheating, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, Logan Echolls Has Issues, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:07:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerOnTilMorning/pseuds/QueerOnTilMorning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan’s destiny, it seems, is to be loved by women chasing an adrenaline fix. No one who wants gentleness looks for it in Logan Echolls.</p><p>He could be gentle, though. He thinks he could. If anyone would ever let him.</p><p> </p><p>or: Logan walks away from That Fight with Veronica, and ends up at a bar where he runs into Weevil</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Logan Echolls/Eli "Weevil" Navarro, Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wanna get lonely with you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After he puts his fist through the wall, Logan gets the fuck out of the apartment. He needs to calm down, and there's no way that's going to happen while Veronica is looking at him like that. It's not just the desire in her eyes--it's the</span>
  <em>
    <span> triumph</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the satisfaction that he has just done exactly what she thought he would do. Exactly what she wanted him to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snapped, just like he always does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Logan went back in time and told his eighteen-year-old self that he would one day literally run from the room when Veronica Mars was trying to rip his shirt off--Christ, his younger self would punch him in the face. Which would probably also be a turn-on for Veronica, and that's exactly why he needs to be elsewhere, right now. He doesn't want to be that person anymore, but that's the person Veronica wants to be with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan drives aimlessly--away from the waterfront, away from the '09, away from anywhere he might run into someone he knows. He doesn't call Dick, or… actually, that's the complete list of people he could conceivably call. But it doesn't matter that he's a pathetic, lonely bastard, because tonight he wants to be alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't know what he's looking for until he sees it. A grimy dive bar, marked by a neon sign with only two letters illuminated--an E and a K. The parking lot is nearly empty, but the lights are on inside. Without humor, Logan notes that he's fled one hole in the wall to end up at another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bar is very small, so Logan can see everyone in it as soon as he opens the door. And they can see him. And he realizes what he must have missed as he scanned the nearly empty parking lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Motorcycles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit," says Eli Navarro, his voice at least two beers louder than usual. "This place used to have fuckin' </span>
  <em>
    <span>standards.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Logan says. "I was looking for a drink, not an animal shelter. Enjoy your flea bath."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil purses his lips in that irritating </span>
  <em>
    <span>I-know- something-you-don't-know</span>
  </em>
  <span> way he has, looks Logan up and down. "Yeah, you're a pup with a pedigree, aren't you? Go sleep on your girlfriend's fluffy pillow." It's stupid, the kind of juvenile taunt they always used to throw around in high school, but the sidelong mention of Veronica makes Logan flinch. He makes a fist at his side, and then he glances down and sees his scraped-raw knuckles, and he knows he needs a drink more than he needs to get away from this asshole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Tequila," he says to the bartender. "Well's fine." Then, since there's only about six stools in the whole place, he slouches on the one next to Weevil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You could buy this whole bar with your pocket change," Weevil points out. "Why you ordering cheap shit? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> a hangover?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did they mail your diploma to you at Chino, or did your grandma have to hold it till you got out?" Logan snaps. He regrets it immediately, not so much because it's a wildly disproportionate escalation as because Weevil doesn't even look pissed. He fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughs.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Man, you are having a worse night than I am," he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan's tequila shot arrives, and he grabs it and throws it back before it hits the bar. "Keep 'em coming," he says. To Weevil, he adds, "If you want me to ask why your night is shitty, I'd like to remind you that I don't care."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Really? I definitely want to know who ruined your mood," says Weevil. "I'll buy them a drink somewhere nicer than this."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan holds his hand out, shoulder high. "Blonde. Tiny. Looks better in a leather jacket than you do."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I figured. What'd you do, ask her if you could be on top tonight?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck you, Mr. Clean. If I rub your head, do I get a wish?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Try it and you better wish you get your fucking hand back."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His second tequila shot appears and disappears. Weevil keeps nursing his beer, waiting for Logan to say more, and he must be truly hard up for a sympathetic ear, because he does. "We got in a fight," he says. "I punched a wall."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil nods in commiseration. "And she threw you out?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan smirks, though it's not funny. "No, she tried to jump on my dick."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's expecting Weevil to laugh, but it goes on for longer than Logan is prepared for. "Wait, wait, wait," the biker says, pretending to wipe away tears. "You bailed on hate sex with the Nancy Drew of Neptune, and now you're here drinking with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>He moves as if to grab his helmet from the bar on the other side of him. "Think she's still pissed off and freaky? I can get there fast."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dude, I know you think you're bad, but she would</span>
  <em>
    <span> break</span>
  </em>
  <span> you," says Logan, the idea too absurd to even make him angry. The third tequila shot is gone too quickly to taste it, and everything starts to get a little warm and a little loud. "We both know you're out here crying in your beer because your wife left you. You can't just go from a normal woman to Veronica Mars."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, you know a lot about normal women, huh?" Weevil says. "Pretty sure I can handle anything you can handle, rich boy. Wouldn't be the first time I--"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan is out of his stool and holding Weevil by the front of his jacket before he fully processes that he's moving. "Don't," he says very quietly. "Do not fucking talk to me about Lily. Not tonight."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She never wanted to talk about you either," Weevil sneers, so Logan throws him across the room. It's a small room, but Weevil is heavy and Logan's back will definitely feel that in the morning. Weevil hits the wall and lands on his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey! Hey!" The bartender, a stocky white guy with red hair falling into his red face, comes around the bar. "None of that shit in here. Get the fuck out, you fuckin'--" He spits a string of racial epithets in Weevil's direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan stares at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asks. Weevil is rubbing his elbow, looking more annoyed than injured. "I'm the one who started it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh yeah?" The dude turns on him. He's even shorter than Weevil. "You can get the fuck out too, fuckin' 09er white trash." Logan looks at the bartender for a long moment, making very sure they both know that he could pick him up by the ankles and hammer-throw him through the ceiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he leaves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You owe me ten bucks," the bartender yells after him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck you, you racist sack of shit," Logan calls over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil saunters through the door after him a moment later, helmet under his arm. "This is why I never take you anywhere nice."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was trying to get away from a fight," Logan mutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If a fight breaks out in every room you walk into, Echolls, you might want to take it up with the boy band dropout in the mirror."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pounds his fist against his thigh. "I know, okay? I fucking-- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know." </span>
  </em>
  <span>This is what's been hissing in the back of his mind all night. "Everyone around me ends up getting hurt. I'm just." He swallows. "I'm just like him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil looks at him, his lips pursed again, like he's thinking hard. He doesn't ask who Logan means by </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> There's a long list of people who probably celebrated when Aaron Echolls turned up dead, and Weevil might not be at the top of it, but he definitely makes an appearance. "Nah," he says finally. "You can't act for shit."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That makes Logan laugh in spite of himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You gotta get out of your head," Weevil goes on. "You're not that bad. And you got a good woman. She's a pain in the ass, but everyone knows she loves you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna tell all your biker friends you said I'm not that bad."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll tell your rich buddies you drink well tequila, and we can see who gets kicked out of the yacht club first."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I really needed more shitty tequila than that," Logan grumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil shrugs. "I have cheap liquor at my place. I just came here to be around people."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You hate people," Logan points out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, I hate </span>
  <em>
    <span>you," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Weevil says, grinning. "So let's go drink some more, and maybe we'll get lucky and kill each other for real this time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's always hope," Logan says. He gestures to his car. "Lead the way."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dude, you're not driving," Weevil says. "Do you know what your girlfriend would do to me if I let your drunk ass put your car in the ocean?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not letting </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> drive my car," Logan snaps back. "I want it to still have a stereo in the morning."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil raises his eyebrows. "I wasn't offering to drive your car," he says, and holds out his helmet for Logan to take.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan grabs it, balances it in his hand for a moment, deciding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you don't have the cojones--" says Weevil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Motherfucker, what have I told you about underestimating my cojones?" Logan knows when he's being goaded, and he's had more than enough of it tonight, but between Weevil's baiting and Veronica's, he'll take the one of them that's worse at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil slings his leg over the bike and revs the engine. Logan climbs on behind him, pulling the helmet onto his head. Inside, it smells like aftershave and a little like sweat, but not in an unpleasant way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This ain't a Six Flags," Weevil says over his shoulder. "You can't put your hands in the air. Hold onto me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You fucking wish," says Logan, his voice muffled inside the helmet. Then he puts his arms around Weevil's waist anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil is shorter than Logan, but his back is broad and somehow reassuring, the black leather of his jacket sun-warmed even though it's close to midnight. As his hands settle awkwardly on Weevil's belly, gone slightly soft in the way of most men their age, Logan keeps his spine straight. It's late and he's a little drunk and a lot tired, but he never leans on anyone, not ever. And if he did, it wouldn't be Eli Navarro.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The engine snarls. The bike leaps forward. Instinctively, Logan’s arms tighten around Weevil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no other way to do this. If he tries to keep his distance, he’ll fuck up their balance and fall. Logan has to move as Weevil moves, following the pull of the other man’s gravity. He has to listen to Weevil with his whole body, to lean into him as they roar out of the parking lot and onto a quiet street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind the glass face mask that smells like Weevil, Logan closes his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heat of a Southern California night rushes past him, but Logan is sheltered enough in the lee of Weevil’s body. He doesn’t feel safe, exactly. He doesn’t trust Weevil. He's just okay with being in peril. Whether he lives through the next five minutes is entirely out of his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan keeps his eyes closed as the bike slows, turns, then picks up speed again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It feels good just to hold on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan wonders if Lily ever rode on the back of Weevil’s bike like this. He can picture it--how she would have loved the sound of the engine, its vibrations turning her whole skeleton into a conductor. How she would have held the man in front of her, not for balance, but out of hunger. Lily wouldn’t have worn a helmet, he thinks, remembering her leaning out the window of the limousine. She would have wanted the wind in her hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can picture them together, how easy it must have been for Weevil to fall in love with the whirlwind that was Lily Kane, wild-eyed and thrill-seeking. She craved danger; it was both why she chose Logan and why she cheated on him, digging for his mean streak, following it all the way back to its source.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carrie wanted him that way too, and so does Veronica. Logan’s destiny, it seems, is to be loved by women chasing an adrenaline fix. No one who wants gentleness looks for it in Logan Echolls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could be gentle, though. He thinks he could. If anyone would ever let him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan’s head is swimming. It’s not just the tequila or the roar of the bike. He’s buzzing like he’s got his own 700 cc engine, and he has been since his hand went through the goddamn drywall. He’s so angry at her, and he loves her so much, and he wishes he’d stayed and let her break herself against him like a wave on a rocky coast. If that’s what she wants, if that’s what she needs him for, he should have stayed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If that’s what she wants, he needs to stay far away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>horny.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His skin burns with touch-hunger and frustration. It would have been so easy to kiss her back, to lift her up and pin her against the wall next to the hole shaped like his fist. To rage against each other like they always have: lives ruined, blood shed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s still that guy. He still wants that. He just doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to want that anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was it like between Lily and Weevil, he wonders? She was always fast and frantic with Logan. Was she the same with Weevil, or did she let him take his time? He can imagine it--Weevil’s mouth on her neck, his long eyelashes brushing her skin. Under his leather gloves, his hands would be strong and sure, but tender. He hopes he’s right. He hopes someone touched Lily tenderly, at least once in her life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind Weevil’s helmet, behind his own closed eyelids, Logan feels the sharp prickling of tears. A sob builds in his throat until it shakes loose: just one syllable, a rough bark. His arms are tight around Weevil, chest pressed against the breadth of his back, and there’s no way to hide the way he trembles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t go home to Veronica, not like this. But--he needs </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Someplace to put all this excess energy, all this fury and desire and grief. He’s a storm cloud crackling with destructive potential. He needs a lightning rod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, the motorcycle comes to a stop. Logan stays where he is, his feet on the pegs, even as he feels Weevil tilt the heavy frame gently onto the kickstand. He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t let go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil taps him on the knee. “You fall asleep?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual--or maybe that’s just because Logan’s ears are ringing from the ride. Logan doesn't respond, so Weevil taps him again. The warmth of his hand through Logan's jeans is counterintuitively soothing to his feverish tension. "Hey, man, you gotta get off the bike before I can."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Right," says Logan. "Sorry." He opens his eyes at last and swings his leg clear of the motorcycle. Weevil follows as Logan looks around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This isn't Weevil's house. Not that Logan has ever been to Weevil's house, but he feels like it's a fair conclusion to draw from the fact that this isn't a house. They've pulled off the road on a wide, cliffside overlook.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes the helmet off and rests it on the motorcycle seat, then walks to the edge. Far below, the ocean churns and boils, silver in the moonlight. It's beautiful and terrible, the way the ocean is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hears Weevil's footsteps in the gravel behind him, and he thinks of that night on the bridge. Then, too, he'd known Weevil by the weight of his steps, the sound of his breathing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he'd thought in the moment before he turned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let him kill me. I could use the distraction.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil is very close to him now, covering his back like a shadow. Logan can feel the heat radiating from his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, and turns around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil's taller than Veronica, but he's still short. Logan has to cup his face in his hands, tilt his chin up, so he can kiss him on the mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He expects Weevil to freeze, to shove him away, very possibly to break his nose. Whatever happens next, it's out of Logan's control. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let him kill me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, just like all those years ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone died that night, but it wasn't you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> a nasty voice in the back of his head reminds him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your self-destructive impulses have shitty aim.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Logan pushes the voice away.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the flicker between that moment and the next, Weevil's hands rise between them. Logan doesn't flinch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Weevil curls one hand around the back of Logan's neck and pulls him harder into the kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their teeth clash together, bruising each other's lips. Weevil kisses him viciously, demanding, leaving him breathless. Logan takes a stumbling half-step back, but Weevil follows seamlessly, moves with him like they moved together on the motorcycle. Their lips don't lose contact for an instant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The edge of the cliff is very close, almost under their feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan's never kissed anyone who didn't have hair to tangle his fingers in. Instead, he runs his palm over Weevil's head, savoring the unfamiliar smoothness. Weevil bites down on his lower lip, and Logan makes a choked sound. It feels inevitable, being here--like the culmination of his fight with Veronica tonight, the culmination of every blow or barb he and Weevil have exchanged since they were fifteen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Eli,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks. He's sucking on the man's tongue; he should call him by his given name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you tell fucking</span>
  <em>
    <span> anyone,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Echolls--" Eli mumbles, dragging his mouth along Logan's jaw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan laughs. "Who the fuck would I tell?" He doesn't add what they both know: that regardless of whether he tells Veronica, she'll find out. He doesn't have secrets from her. No one does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli scrapes Logan's collarbone with his teeth. In answer, Logan slides his hands under Eli's leather jacket, under his threadbare t-shirt, finally finding skin. He can feel the biker's tattoos, he realizes, a lacework of fine scar tissue covering his chest, stomach, back. Eli groans as Logan traces the lines with his fingernails.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Logan stops moving, he'll start thinking about whatever the fuck is happening right now, so he doesn't stop. He finds Eli's mouth with his own again, parts his lips with his tongue. Distantly, he realizes he's getting hard. He listens for the sound of tires on the road, but it never comes. All he hears is the ocean and his own heavy breathing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli digs his strong fingers into Logan's hips and turns them around, shoving Logan with his whole body, away from the cliff this time. Logan gives up the ground easily, letting out a needy whimper as Eli's thigh presses between his legs. In a second, he's backed up against the heavy shape of Eli's motorcycle. Nowhere left to go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trapped, Logan arches his back, grinding against Eli through his jeans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli's hard, too. Logan can feel it. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It's overwhelming, a little terrifying, but also </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He palms the bulge in Eli's pants, gratified when the biker moans and thrusts into him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've never--" Logan begins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did I fuckin' ask?" Weevil snarls, unzipping Logan's fly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh my</span>
  <em>
    <span> God."</span>
  </em>
  <span> Weevil's hand is hot and strong and sure, and it wraps around Logan's cock without hesitation. "Jesus, Weev-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eli--</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli laughs, low and dark in his chest. "Like that, pretty boy?" A handlebar is jabbing into Logan's back, but he doesn't care. Eli reaches down further, cups his balls, then slides his fist back up Logan's shaft. "You thought about this before, huh?" His thumb grazes Logan's slit. "Fuckin' rich kids are all the same. You all just want a taste of the wrong side of the tracks."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>taste,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Logan's mouth falls open like he's parched. Eli grins up at him with those huge, dark eyes--fuck, they're</span>
  <em>
    <span> pretty, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Weevil has</span>
  <em>
    <span> pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span> eyes, and he's jerking Logan slowly, like they've got all the time in the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I fucking--" Logan's voice catches in his throat. "I hate you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli's hand slows even more, almost comes to a stop. Then he </span>
  <em>
    <span>squeezes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it's only the bulk of the motorcycle behind him that keeps Logan from falling down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Eli says. "I can tell."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan braces one hand on the seat of the bike behind him as he fucks up into the rough heat of Eli's grip. He's close. He was already close when he pulled away from Veronica's embrace, hours ago or days ago or whenever that was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, you fuckin' hate me, come on," says Eli again. With his free hand, Logan white-knuckles the biker's shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Logan breathes, pushing harder as Eli's fist picks up speed. "Fff--" He bites his lip ferociously, barely catching the words in time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he almost said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without warning, Weevil kisses him again, his hot tongue pushing into Logan's mouth like he's searching for something. Logan whines against his lips and comes like a bullet out of a gun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a dizzying moment, he genuinely feels like he's left his body and is flying through the air. Then he crash-lands back inside himself, sweating and sticky, gulping for air as Weevil strokes him through the shivering coda of his orgasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Logan has control of his body again, he pushes Weevil back so he can stand up straight. He doesn't get it quite right; Weevil jolts and almost loses his balance, a look flashing across his face that Logan's never seen before. It's not anger--that would be familiar. This is more like hurt. Like Logan has hurt his feelings.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan could try to explain, to say that he doesn't mean what Weevil thinks he means, but it seems too complicated to fit into words. Instead, as he was always intending to do, he sinks to his knees on the bare earth between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli looks down at him, but doesn't move to unbutton his jeans. When Logan reaches for the fly himself, Eli places a hand on his wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This what you want?" he asks softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Logan says, because it is, it really fucking is. "I want--" His eyes are stinging. It must be the wind, up here above the ocean where the air is full of salt. "Let me be good to you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay." Eli nods. "Okay. Be good to me. I know you can." No one has ever said that to Logan before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan eases the jeans down Eli's hips, his breath catching when the biker's cock springs free. It's long and hard and looks almost blue in the moonlight. For a moment, Logan just stares. He's never thought about this, at least not with his conscious mind, but something inside him is sighing </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Part of Logan can't believe this is actually happening; surely he's home in bed next to Veronica, having an impossibly vivid dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eli wraps a hand loosely around himself, gazing down at Logan. "We gonna do this or what?" he asks, but there's no bite in his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," says Logan. He leans forward, hands on his thighs, and opens his mouth to let Eli guide his cock inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, fuck," Eli shudders as Logan's lips slide over the head. "Echolls, yeah, fuck." Logan hums in acknowledgement. He likes this, he decides. It takes all his attention, keeping his jaw wide, following Weevil's pulse with his tongue. He likes the taste. He likes the way the skin feels in his mouth as he lowers his head further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Can I--" Eli starts, then cuts himself off with a sharp, sudden breath in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan pulls off for a moment, gasping for air. "I don't know," he says. "Can you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Think you're fucking funny, don't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He should say something brutal in reply, but for some reason what comes out is "I think you should fuck my face."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Unnhh," Eli groans. "Shit. Yeah." Ever so hesitantly, he threads his fingers through Logan’s hair, nudging more than pushing his head back down. Logan complies eagerly, taking Eli deep in his throat, holding him there as long as he can stand. He only lets up when he gags a little. Lips stretched to burning, he reaches for Eli’s other hand and puts it on his head. Then he takes hold of Eli’s hips, uses them to pull the biker’s cock into his mouth again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Eli’s hands tighten in his hair. He begins to thrust, shallowly at first, but picking up speed when it’s clear that Logan doesn’t object. “Yeah,” Eli says again. “Yeah, fuck. The fucking mouth on you, Echolls--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan squeezes his eyes shut. His own cock is utterly spent, but he’s absolutely going to jerk off to the memory of those words at his earliest opportunity. Eli is fucking his mouth hard now. It’s filthy and degrading and Logan can’t get enough of it, loves being used to make someone else feel good, for once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks up to see Eli’s mouth hanging open, his deep brown eyes staring down in something like amazement. “You love this, don’t you?” he says, his voice low and rough. “You fuckin’ love sucking my cock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because he can’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> the way he wants to, Logan digs his fingers into Eli’s hips and sinks his head down as far as it can possibly go, past gagging, past choking, until his eyes flood with tears and his throat spasms, until every other thought is fucked out of his head, until nothing exists but Eli, filling him completely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuuu-</span>
  <em>
    <span>uuuuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Eli groans, stretching the word into two long syllables, and then, with no further warning, he comes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan pulls back too late, taking most of it in his mouth and the rest on the side of his face. The taste is strong, shocking. He spits into the gravel as Eli trembles above him, holding on to Logan’s hair for balance, now, instead of control.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After another moment, Eli sinks down to the ground, resting his forehead on Logan’s shoulder while his breathing slowly returns to normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Logan says eventually.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Fuck.” Eli nuzzles against his throat. “This doesn’t mean I like you, white boy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes you do,” says Logan. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re gonna tell your fucking girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan shrugs. “Someone will.” Then, as if it’s a logical extension of the last thing he said, he adds, “She doesn’t want to marry me, man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” says Eli after a long moment. “Me neither. So I see where she’s coming from.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logan hears the waves far below them, cold and remorseless. They sit in silence for a long time.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*sneaks into fandom in the dead of night, leaves this on the ground and runs away*</p></blockquote></div></div>
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